


One Foot in Front of the Other

by ILoveTeamFortressToo



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Gen, Monologue, POV First Person, References to Torture, kind of looks like poetry from the description but it's not, questionable sanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5035258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveTeamFortressToo/pseuds/ILoveTeamFortressToo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Just put one foot in front of the other foot.</em><br/>That's what I keep telling myself.<br/><em>One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other.</em><br/>I miss my shoes. Custom made from the finest Italian leather. I wonder where they went. I don't remember.<br/><em>One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other.</em><br/>The mask I do. The suit, too. They cut them away piece by piece. They were well made, sturdy. Not easy to slice through with a knife. You have to be careful with the angle if you want to cut clothes off a body. Otherwise you don't get anywhere or else you cut into the skin too.<br/>They were not careful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Foot in Front of the Other

**Author's Note:**

> Usually I only set out to write things once I've got them all carefully planned out. Not so with this piece; the inspiration for it hit me just as I was about to shut down my computer for the night and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep until I wrote it down and found out where it lead.  
> Apologies for any mistakes; I'm very tired and this hasn't been proof read by anyone else.

_Just put one foot in front of the other foot._

That's what I keep telling myself.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

I miss my shoes. Custom made from the finest Italian leather. I wonder where they went. I don't remember.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

The mask I do. The suit, too. They cut them away piece by piece. They were well made, sturdy. Not easy to slice through with a knife. You have to be careful with the angle if you want to cut clothes off a body. Otherwise you don't get anywhere or else you cut into the skin too. They were not careful. The shirt was red by the time they got it off me. They dug the knife under every button. I heard them popping off and go clattering to the floor. It was a surreal sound. Out of place given the situation. It made them laugh. Maybe I would have laughed too, if I could.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

They were laughing when they took my mask. I struggled then, you see. I'd kept quiet and still and dignified the rest of the time. There was nothing I could do. Might as well face it with dignity. But this was my mask. You know what us spies are like about our masks. When you spend so long hiding behind one, you end up afraid of who you might be underneath. And you become afraid of them seeing you for who you really are.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

I struggled because I knew that once they took away my mask, they wouldn't see a Spy anymore. They'd just see a skinny, scared man who'd spent so long living up to the title and mask that the real person behind it could never hope to compare.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the othe_ r.

They'd see I was human. And I didn't expect revelations of my humanity to hold them back. No, in striping me down they were reducing me to their level. We spies hold ourselves up on such tall pedestals, you see. It's a very long way to fall.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

They were not careful with the mask either. Those wounds are long since healed, but I still have to fight the urge to cover my face. Shame shame shame. I was handsome once, I tell you. Though I wouldn't blame you if you said you didn't believe me now.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

There's no one else around for miles and still I worry about my appearance. We spies are shallow you see, preening peacocks in our fancy suits. Real lady killers. Men killers too, though not in the same way. Except when it is. Who am I to judge?

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

Nobody, that's who I am. I'm not the Spy anymore. Can't be, not without his suit and mask and balisong and disguise kit and sapper and over-priced cigarettes. I've been so many people over the years, I've forgotten who was supposed to be under that mask.

I know who I am now, nobody. No one. Nobody at all.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot-_

I'm sorry. Just give me a moment to rest, wont you? You're a kind one, aren't you? Not like those others. I can trust you. You never did those things. Or at least, you did them less. I know you were always there. Not at the start. You missed that bit. But you came later, once the clothes were gone and the rot set in. You never saw me when I was handsome. You never met the Spy. I miss him. You would have liked him. No, what am I saying. Of course you wouldn't have. He-I must have backstabbed you so many times.

_One more minute, please. Then I'll continue, I promise._

You only ever met nobody. You watched. You watched. I don't recall your expression. Did it hurt you, to see nobody tortured so? Did you wince when they worked to wring answers out of nobody at all? Is nobody deserving of your pity?

Then give it to him, not me.

No, I told you I'm not the Spy either. And I can't be nobody. Got to be somebody, haven't I?

Who am I then? Tired. That's who I am, tired. Look at me. Can you blame whoever I am? I'm cold too. Look at me. Can you blame me?

Not much further, you say? All right, I'll trust you. Never used to. Never used to trust anyone. Safer that way. I trusted an enemy once, you know. See where that got me. Foolish foolish nobody Spy.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

This is the furthest I've walked in months, you know. But not the longest. That room was three-and-a-half steps by five. I used to walk around it again and again and again and again and again and again and again. It's a surprise I never went mad, isn't it? I think it was the walking that kept me sane. The times when I couldn't move were the ones when I lost myself entirely.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

You'd be amazed what people will do when they encourage each other. 'Go on kid, hit him, one would say. And he'd hit me. But soon it wasn't enough. 'Go on, kick him' they'd say. And he'd kick me. But that'd get boring too after a while. 'Go on, cut him,' they'd say, and he'd already be reaching for the knife. They liked the knives best I think. I think we all appreciated the irony, my friend.

_One foot. And then the other._

What do you mean? Of course you are my friend, mon ami. My friend my friend. Why else would you take me from that place? Yes I know, yes I know where we are going. Do not worry, my friend.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

Close, you say? So very close? Thank you friend, thank you. No, please don't cry. I couldn't stand it. There's no reason to cry; you're letting me go after all.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

It's around here is it? I'm afraid I can't see very well. You already know that of course, why else would you have kept such a tight grip on me? They took my eyes so many times. In such creative ways. I saw you there sometimes. But after a while you just became another red blur.

_One foot. And then the other. One foot. And then the other._

We've made it? Thank you friend. No, I can manage. Not as much of a step down as I thought it would be. Rather shallow.

_One foot._

But thank you anyway, mon ami.

Thank you for not making me dig it myself.

Thank you.

_And then the other._

 

 


End file.
